Not Again
by E Salvatore
Summary: She can't lose him. And he can't lose her. Not again, not this time, not to them. Peter and Olivia fight back as she fights to keep him. Picks up exactly where 5x05 left off. There's a 99.99% chance this will be AU by next week's episode. But for now, enjoy the P/O ride.


**NOT AGAIN**

**She can't lose him. And he can't lose her. Not again, not this time, not to them. Peter and Olivia fight back as she fights to keep him. Picks up exactly where 5x05 left off. There's a 99.99% chance this will be AU by next week's episode. But for now, enjoy the P/O ride.**

* * *

"I love you too."

He eyes himself in the mirror, wishing Olivia could be by his side, reflected with him, right there with him. He wishes she had called him just two minutes earlier. He wishes he hadn't lost sight of what is really important, what will always be important: his family.

He wishes he could hold on to these feelings, feelings that are rapidly escaping him. He fights to keep them, fights for what he feels for Olivia and Etta, fights for how just three simple words had somehow made his world right again but it goes against the tech. His body is in conflict, at war as he fights to keep his emotions from freezing up unnaturally, fights the all-encompassing urge of the tech to leave it all behind.

The pain spreads from his neck to his head, his eyes, his heart. Strangled sounds of pain escape him – and are transmitted directly to a distraught Olivia. He has just enough sense left to move the phone away, to keep it at arm's length and with it, his wife, the love of his life, his Olivia, the Olivia he has only just gotten back.

_No_. A deep growl of denial filled with defiance and determination rings in his mind and with it come a thousand memories.

_I love you._

_I remember. I remember everything._

_When I look into your eyes, I know it's you._

_Peter, I'm pregnant._

_**I will not lose you again, Olivia**_**.**

The last had been a promise made years ago. He's broken it once and lived through the consequential nightmare; he will not lose her yet again. Not this time. Not to _them_.

Within seconds, his phone is pressed up against his ear. Already his senses are sharper. He can hear Olivia's frantic breathing, her repeated calls of his name, the sounds of an old memory, another lifetime, playing in the background.

Memories of how it had been then – with Olivia and Etta and giggles and kisses and _love_ –give him the strength to push, to fight back.

"Olivia," He begins, panting with effort. Every fiber of his invaded being is fighting against this; fighting against his heart. "Come here. To the lab. _Now_."

"Peter? Peter, what's wrong?" Olivia, still choked up and sobbing – he can hear it, he can hear all of it – suddenly becomes alert. Her tone is sharper, almost demanding. "Peter, please. Peter?" She is frantic and worried and _scared_.

_Peter, I'm scared._

_I'm afraid._

_I don't want to lose you_.

"Come to the lab," He swallows thickly, inhaling a shallow gulp of air. "There's a scanner. On the table. My neck. Inside. There's tech." His words are disjointed and senseless; he can only hope Olivia will unscramble them the way she has always deciphered him because this is all he can manage.

"_Cut. It. Out_."

And then he swings his head back, gaining momentum.

Two seconds later, there is an explosion of glass as shards fly everywhere and Peter, bloodied and bruised on his forehead, slips mercifully into the darkness. There is only one last plea in his mind.

_Don't lose me, Olivia_.

* * *

There's a crash.

She gasps, horrified and clueless and scared, so scared. She can't lose Peter. She can't. Not now. Not after… she just _can't_.

Mind reeling, tears streaming and heart racing, Olivia jumps into action and is on the move before she can even put thought into action. Peter needs her. To find a scanner and cut out tech from his neck and God knows what else.

She runs out of the lab as fast as possible, diving headfirst into the unknown chaos that awaits, leaving behind two very confused and concerned members.

She doesn't care. Not right now.

Now, Peter needs her.

* * *

There is no journey from the lab to Anil's lab, only one torturous cycle, a continuous chant inside her mind: _I can't lose you, I can't lose you, I can't lose you_.

She doesn't remember emerging from the underground tunnel. She doesn't remember tearing through the streets and into dark alleyways. She doesn't remember getting there.

All she remembers is one second she was crying and running and weak and the next she finds Peter bloodied and unconscious on the ground, the white surface a stark contrast to the pool of blood that pillows his head.

"Peter," She gasps.

And then she's searching through the little pieces on the lab table, hands frantically sweeping everything unrelated aside, heart pounding until she finds what seems to be the right object. _A scanner_.

Then comes the next part. _Cut it out_. Peter had practically growled each word in a tone she has never heard him use before. The words are emblazoned inside her mind. She falls to the ground and sifts through the pile of items she had pushed down, searching for something, anything. She doesn't expect to find a surgical scalpel but it's in her hands as she rushes to Peter's side.

"Peter," She cries, tears still flowing. "What did you _do_?" Quickly but as gently as possible, she flips him over, resting his face against her thigh, exposing his neck. She fumbles with the scanner, eyes unseeing as fingers claw to find purchase, but eventually manages to work it.

And there it is.

The tech.

A strange, pin-like object. So familiar from those days, the days she had hid behind saving the world to keep from accepting the loss of her daughter and husband. The days she had spent studying them, these _monsters_, and the tech that made them tick. The tech that kept them alive, the tech that became such a part of them the minute it was inserted that the simple act of removing it would instantly kill any Observer.

_Why_? Why would Peter – what does she do now? What _can _she do? What now?

She stumbles in her panic-driven plan, mind devoid of all but one certainty: _she cannot lose him_. And if she does nothing, she will.

She has to cut.

And pray that the tech hasn't attached itself.

So she dries up her tears and stops more from coming. She takes a deep breath and positions the scalpel with a sure hand. And then she prays, prays to a God who has created monsters and ruined the world and taken her daughter from her _twice_.

_Please. Please, not him too. Not Peter. __**Please**_**.**

And then she cuts into the skin, not giving herself any time to back down. She almost turns away but Olivia Dunham does not back down and right now that is who she needs to be.

So she takes a deep breath, brushes away Peter's blood-crusted hair and takes a long, hard look at the evil embedded in him.

It's not fused to him yet.

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, **thank you**._

"Thank you," She breathes sharply, her sight blurred by tears of gratitude and relief. She reaches in with the scalpel and carefully, ever so carefully, removes the tech.

She tosses it far away from them.

And then she slumps down to the ground, cradling Peter against her, waiting for him to come back to her.

The tears keep coming.

* * *

It's nightfall when he begins to stir.

They will have to stay here for the rest of the night, in a place with a dead Observer and dangerous tech and insufficient supplies to get him patched up, but at the first pained groan coming from the man cradled in her lap, these concerns are banished from her mind.

"Peter," She calls hoarsely, voice dry and cracked from a bad day. She anxiously watches him, waiting for his eyes to open.

They're as blue and human and _Peter_ as ever.

"Oh, Peter." She cries in relief, eyes wet and lips curled upwards as she bows her head to his. Her eyes drift shut as she gently presses her forehead against his, and when his hand snakes up to weakly place itself against her cheek, she feels like everything is going to be okay.

She straightens up, a strangled sob escaping her throat. Peter slowly moves to get up. She props him up against the wall she had moved them closer to a few hours ago.

"Liv, I…" Peter groans, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Her stomach twists. She doesn't know what to do. He's always been the one patching her up. She could work with a first-aid, but an earlier search through what little there is here had proved useless.

"Shh," She takes his hand in her own, thinking of ways to help him. A million questions burn in her unforgiving mind but she can't bring herself to ask a single one, not until she's made sure he's fine. As fine as a guy can be after what had just happened. "Don't try to talk yet, just rest. I couldn't find anything except for some antiseptic. I used it on your cuts while you were out. But there's nothing for the pain." She explains apologetically as he nods along, eyes closed.

"S'okay," He slurs, visibly tense. "Just feels like a hangover from hell." She hates that he's picked up on that from her. The need to constantly comfort and reassure your loved ones while you're in pain. To spare them worry and concern and heartache.

She takes him in, the entire horrible, gruesome, heartbreaking sight. Peter is pale and clammy and bruised and bloodied. He's never looked worse. But when he opens his eyes, they're somehow better than the dull blue she'd gotten used to in the last few days since… since Etta.

Peter's eyes are alive again, even if just a tiny bit. But they're alive. They're his eyes. The ones with love in them.

"I love you, 'Livia." He whispers hoarsely and not without much effort. The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally make good on their word. She's openly sobbing as she palms one bloodied cheek in her hand and asks desperately, "_why_?"

"Why, Peter?" She sobs, completely unable to exercise any form of control over her emotions. The adrenaline has run out, her immediate worry has been taken care of, the dam has burst. She can't control herself anymore. "Why would you try to be like them? _One of _them? _Why_?"

Peter's eyes meet hers and with her leaning into him and him against a wall, eyes half shut, she can almost picture a scene they've lived a thousand times, can almost pretend it's just another Sunday morning with Peter, still half-asleep, pressed against the headboard of their bed as their daughter bounds into the room and launches herself into her parents' bed, laughingly asking her mother to kiss her father awake, like in _Sleeping Beauty_.

"I did it… I did it for her." She knows his answer before he says it. Because everything they've done, they've done for her. Etta. Henrietta. Their baby girl. In the name of Etta. But would she have wanted any of this?

"She... you almost turned yourself into a monster. Into one of them. _They _killed h- I watched the tape." She chokes. "It… it was her birthday, and she was queen for the day." Olivia can't help the smile that graces her tear-stained, aged face. "And she… she asked you to-"

"Kiss you." Peter supplies with a tiny small of his own. "Yeah, I remember." Silence falls as they catch each other's eye, then quickly turn away. Olivia turns back, beaten.

"She would have wanted us to survive this, Peter." She repeats her earlier words, eyes studying his. He swallows thickly.

"I know. And we will." Olivia shakes her head, rejecting his words.

"She would have wanted us to survive this as _us_. As her Mama and Daddy. The people we used to be. Not…" She breaks off with a strangled choke. "Not as killing machines."

"She would have wanted _us_ to survive, Peter." She can't take it anymore. Peter opens his arms to her, fights to keep the wince off his face. Nothing is worse than the pain of seeing Olivia this way and not knowing how to comfort her. She throws herself into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Great, shuddering sobs rock their still forms as he holds her.

"We will, Olivia. We will." He chants soothingly but determinedly. They will. They will survive this as Etta's parents, the ones she loved. They will survive this as Peter and Olivia. "We will, I promise."

Olivia's words are muffled against his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair, soothing her as he pulls away. "What was that, honey?"

Olivia's red-rimmed eyes meet his and in a hoarse whisper spoken so desperately he's taken back to a different lifetime, one where the Machine loomed large and menacing, she brings them full circle.

"I love you. And I don't want to lose you ever again."

His eyes search hers as he swallows thickly. Her eyes, eyes he could spend a lifetime deciphering, eyes he _has _spent a lifetime gazing into, noting each dilated pupil, each changing shade, each stressed out blood vessel.

He always loved her eyes most when they were bright and clear, with a sparkle in them that only their family could bring out.

But this is the way he loves _her _most: completely stripped to the bone, trusting him at her most vulnerable… this is her. This is Olivia, no walls, guard down, putting her heart in his hands.

How could he ever have let her walk away, missing daughter or not? This is Olivia. This is his wife. The mother of his child. His other half. His better half. The woman who made him a better person, a better man, a better son, a better father.

A better human being, in the best ways possible.

He finds, in those green orbs he loves so much, love. Love and pain and loss and fear and faith. In him. In them. In their daughter. _She would have wanted us to survive this._

"We _will_ survive this, Olivia." And then, two hands gently cupping her cheeks, a thumb wiping away her tears, he leans in and kisses his wife for the first time in twenty-one years.

It feels like coming home.

It feels like belonging.

It feels like hope.

Bracing his forehead against her own, one hand still cupping her cheek, he closes his eyes and breathes in the memories of being with Olivia, tainted with the loss of their child, overpowering that almost tangible despair in the air, brightened by a love for his family so pure it feels like hope.

And then he makes her another vow, a vow he _will_ keep this time. Because he can't lose her. Not her too. Not her again.

"I will not lose you again, Olivia."

* * *

**Yeah, so I cried like a baby and this happened because after watching the promo for 5x06, something tells me I'm going to need this to tide me through. Just a little shipper fantasy for now. I hope it makes you feel better too. Oh, Fringe, the heartache you put us through…**

**I shall now get to work on my two post 5x04 multi-chaps and maybe a surprise one-shot. Hush, I have all these **_**feels**_** and this is the only way to get a handle on them.**

**Hey, I just saw Fringe, I cried like a baby, I wrote you a story, so review maybe?**

**That… was horrible.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**November 2012.**_


End file.
